


Shot

by Yellowwolf



Category: New Blood (TV)
Genre: Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 05:30:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7832227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellowwolf/pseuds/Yellowwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rash was slowly but surely starting to lose count of the amount of times he found himself on the wrong end of a gun. </p><p>It felt significant to note these types of life-threatening situations had never occurred before meeting, living with, and occasionally, teaming up with, Stefan Kowolski. Therefore, Rash could only come to the conclusion that out of the two of them, Stefan was the trouble magnet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shot

**Author's Note:**

> Why do works needs titles? Also, why does my inspiration stop at titles?  
> Unbeta'd. (EDIT: Massive thanks to Tyhyin for britpicking. Edited to change a few words.)

Rash was slowly but surely starting to lose count of the amount of times he found himself on the wrong end of a gun.

It felt significant to no these types of life-threatening situations had never occurred before meeting, living with, and occasionally, teaming up with, Stefan Kowolski. Therefore, Rash could only come to the conclusion that out of the two of them, Stefan was the trouble magnet.

 _It had started as such a promising day too,_ Rash mused as he held up his hands in the air and kept his eyes firmly trained on the muzzle of the gun.

“Why don’t you lower that gun so that we can have a normal conversation like the adults that we are?” Stefan suggested, with enough condescension and annoyance in his voice that Rash wanted to shoot him. On the bright side, the gun moved off Rash and on to Stefan for that comment.

“What he’s trying to say,” Rash intervened. The gun immediately swung back and Rash briefly cursed himself for trying to save Stefan from his own stupidity, “is that we just want to have a friendly chat and that we’d prefer to do it without the gun, and preferably over a nice cup of coffee.”

The man, or a boy, really, he had only just turned 18 years old, looked doubtfully between the two of them. His hand was shaking, which made it all the more worrying that he had his finger poised over the trigger. One wrong movement or strong tremor and he’d pull it.

“Put down the gun,” Rash ordered softly, but firmly. “You’re not going to use that on us. We’re the good guys. We just want to have a chat.”

The boy took a step back, Rash instinctively followed, which was apparently the wrong course of action. He realized it a second too late, the way his action could be perceived as threatening, and only when the fear in the boy’s eyes won out over the doubt. His whole body seemed to shudder with it. Rash couldn’t exactly tell how he knew, but he knew he was fucked, he knew that gun was going to go off and he was right in the line of fire.

The bang was deafening and Rash could swear he could feel his heart stopping in that same moment. Rash stood frozen, bracing for impact.

The impact came, but not in the way he’d anticipated. The force of Stefan barrelling into him knocked him sideways to the ground. As he fell, the boy started running towards the other end of the alley, his feet slapping heavily against the pavement before he disappeared out of sight altogether.

A spike of pain shot through Rash as his shoulder collided with the hard ground and he let out an involuntary grunt. Still, aside from the stab of pain, he didn’t feel anything else. He must have dodged the bullet, thanks to Stefan’s quick thinking.

“Son of a –,” Rash cursed, adrenaline, anger and some measure of fear coursing through his body. “If you hadn’t -, he would have-. I’m going to get him.

Rash had every intention of getting to his feet quickly and starting a pursuit, he was a fast runner after all, but as he made to push himself up, his hand landed in something thick and sticky. Turning to glance down, he saw the blood staining his hand. He gasped involuntarily. He’d been shot, he had been – But no, he didn’t feel anything. He patted himself down at the same time that he realized Stefan hadn’t responded or moved.

He glanced back, the sight of the pool of blood getting bigger underneath Stefan’s body almost making him sick.

“No- Oh no,” Rash uttered. His eyes drifted up to Stefan’s face, relieved to see him still conscious, if a little dazed and in a lot of pain. “Stefan,” Rash said, shakily. He couldn’t see where the blood was coming from with Stefan still on his side. He swallowed, rolled him over on his back gently. The tear in his jacket revealed he’d been hit in the side.

“I can’t believe – idiot, damn it,” Rash babbled, as he fumbled for his mobile, relieved to find it had survived his fall. He dialed 999, tried to dial down the panic in his voice as he relayed what had happened, but failed spectacularly. The woman on the other end of the line spoke to him in a soothing voice, told him to press something to the wound in order to stop the bleeding, which, yeah, of course, he knew that. He just hadn’t –  He should have – He hung up the phone when she had reassured him help was on the way and tossed it to the side, shrugging out of his jacket and balling it up. He pushed it to the wound, applying pressure just as the operator had said.

Stefan grunted, but otherwise didn’t make a sound. The lines of pain in his face betrayed the discomfort though.

“You bloody idiot,” Rash cursed. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“What? Save your sorry ass?” Stefan replied, voice a croak.

Rash shook his head. “Not at the expense of you getting shot, no, jesus. There’s so much blood.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”

“Really? Name one time. Seriously, name one time worse than you bleeding out on the pavement with a bullet lodged in your side,” Rash dared, sounding slightly hysterical and panicked, because seriously, there was a lot of blood.

“Dunno. That upside-down car was pretty terrifying,” Stefan replied. He tried for a cheeky smile, but missed by about a mile.

“But not worse,” Rash felt the need to correct. “Where’s that bloody ambulance?” He couldn’t tell if the bleeding had stopped. There was every chance that the material of his jacket was absorbing it. He could tell from Stefan’s face though that he was getting worse. He looked pale and sweat was beading on his brow. It could be due to the pain, but it could also be due to the blood loss.

What felt like hours later, but could only have been a matter of minutes, the distinct wailing noises of an ambulance started approaching, until it screeched to a halt at their position. Two paramedics piled out.

In a manner of minutes, they had Stefan loaded into an ambulance. Rash debated the merits of going with them to the hospital. He needed to call Sands, tell him what had happened. He probably needed to call someone at SFO to let them know, too, but none of that seemed particularly important in that moment. He needed to be in that ambulance with Stefan, so when they asked him if he wanted to come with, he didn’t hesitate and got in.

The lines of pain in Stefan’s face started smoothing out as the morphine started kicking in. He was staring up at the ceiling of the ambulance, seemingly staring into nothing. Ever so often, his eyes would flit over to Rash and he’d give him a small smile. Rash could only reply in kind. He didn’t think his smile was particularly encouraging, the worry coursing through his body making it hard to do much else than wring his hands and frown. The paramedics weren’t giving him much information, couldn’t exactly do much more than keep Stefan stable until they reached the hospital and he could be taken into surgery.

They arrived at the hospital soon enough. Rash went with them as far as he could, before the doctor told him to wait in the waiting room and that someone would give him an update as soon as he could.

Rash took the opportunity to call Sands, who bitched him out for a good five minutes for only calling this in _now_ , considering the boy was a suspect in their investigation and they had probably lost him now. Rash refrained from stating that the boy hardly seemed like a criminal mastermind and that they would definitely find him, instead let Sands rage, which was the easier course of action. When Sands was done, or at least was quiet long enough for Rash to interrupt, he informed Sands he was staying at the hospital and hung up. He was probably going to get an earful for that later, but it didn’t matter.

He called Marcus at the SFO next. Rash had laughed when Stefan insisted they exchange contact information for their jobs, but it felt pretty damn useful now. He repeated the story to Marcus. Marcus’s replies were clipped and angry-sounding, but he seemed to care a little more about Stefan’s well-being. Rash promised to keep him updated before he hung up.

Having made the two most important phone calls, Rash sighed and found his way to the men’s toilets to clean up the blood that was still sticking to his hands.

Rash should probably be worried about the fact neither of them might have jobs to return to in the morning, but it seemed almost trivial in comparison to the fact that there was still a chance that Stefan might not have his life in the morning.

It seemed to take ages to wash the blood off his hands. His shirt was a lost cause. Blood had soaked into the long sleeves. Considering he had nothing else, he rolled the sleeves up to his elbows to hide the worst of the blood. He winced slightly when the fabric caught on the skin of his lower arm. Upon inspection, it seemed he’d scraped the skin during his fall. He hadn’t event felt it until just now. It would probably bruise, turn a lovely shade of purple and blue, but it didn’t really matter. He didn’t bother with checking his upper arm and shoulder, it would probably be in a similar state.

His jeans were another lost cause, blood and dirt stained the fabric at the lower legs and knees. Knowing that was Stefan’s blood made him feel sick to the stomach. He leaned heavily on the sink and took a couple of deep, steadying breaths. He couldn’t keep wearing these clothes.

When the queasiness had passed, he grabbed his mobile again and called Leila in the hopes that she was home and not working a shift. By some miracle, she picked up. He relayed the story to her, surprised by how much his voice was suddenly shaking. He begged her not to tell their mother just yet, he’d talk to her himself when he felt ready. The adrenaline was definitely starting to leave his body and he did not like the panicked, hollow feeling it was leaving behind. Leila hung up with a promise to be there as soon as possible. He felt marginally better, knowing she was on the way. He’d need to get in touch with Jan too, but figured that could wait until he had actual news to give him. He didn’t want to worry him unnecessarily and quite frankly, he was not in the mood to deal with worried Polish people right now.

Rash returned to the waiting room and paced back and forth. Even though his legs felt like jelly, he didn’t feel like sitting on the pristine chairs with his dirty jeans.

He couldn’t tell how long he’d been pacing by the time he heard Leila say his name. She strode over to him, her expression worried, and hugged him. Rash wanted nothing more than return the hug, but remembered his dirty clothes in time. He pulled away, smiling weakly.

“Careful for your clothes,” he said.

“Hardly what’s important right now. Here, I brought you a change of clothing.” Leila handed him a plastic bag. Rash managed to nod in thanks and returned to the toilets to change.

Putting on clean clothes didn’t exactly make him feel better, nor did throwing his clothes in the bin, but at least he wasn’t constantly confronted with Stefan’s blood, even if his mind insisted on playing tricks on him. He could swear that from the corner of his eye he could still see the stains on his jeans but a glance downward revealed nothing. He splashed some cold water in his face and resolutely ignored his own expression in the mirror because he didn’t care to see the haunted look in his own eyes.

When he felt like he couldn’t hide any longer before Leila would take matters into her own hands and come in, he returned to the waiting room. She was sitting down and patted the chair beside her. Reluctant to argue, he sat down beside her. She linked their arms together and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said quietly.

“Stefan-”

“Will be fine,” Leila said resolutely, cutting him off. She squeezed his arm. “He isn’t done annoying you yet.”

Rash laughed, a surprised sound that seemed ripped out of him. “He can be annoying, can’t he?”

Leila chuckled. “It’s one of his better qualities.”

“Yeah,” Rash agreed, because even when Stefan was doing everything in his power to get under his skin, there was something endearing, and most of the time, comic about it. It sometimes felt like he was playing it up, just to get some reaction out of Rash. A smile. A huff. An eye-roll. A chuckle. A frown. The reaction didn’t matter. Stefan always seemed pleased to get something out of him.

Rash let his head drop back against the wall behind his chair and closed his eyes, feeling drained. Closing his eyes brought him no rest. The scene replayed in his mind. That moment that Rash could see that the boy was going to pull the trigger, the way the world shifted when he was pushed to the side, the pool of blood, the expression on Stefan’s face. He couldn’t bear to open his eyes either. The images were burned on his eyes anyway. He didn’t need the depressing muted colours of the waiting room on top of that. Leila’s presence was comforting, at least. A solid weight against his side. A reminder that he wasn’t alone in this. A grounding force that kept him from falling to pieces right then and there.

Rash lost track of time, dozing, floating somewhere between unpleasant memories and the more pleasant memories he conjured up to chase them aw      ay. Going to the gym with Stefan. Stefan turning everything into a competition. Nights spent at the pub or at their flat, watching the football.  

He had no idea how much time had actually passed by the time Leila said his name and jerked upright. Rash was instantly awake and shot to his feet as a doctor approached them, her hair was tied back neatly, she had lines around her eyes and mouth that betrayed she was older than she actually looked.

“Are you here for Stefan Kowolski?” The doctor asked. “Family?”

“No, I was with him when it – and I was with him when they brought him in. He’s my partner, sort of,” Rash explained lamely. “I’m Rash, this is Leila. How is he?”

“I’m sorry about what happened to your boyfriend, but he’s going to be okay,” the doctor said, kindly. Rash swallowed back a reply at the wrong assumption just in time. They were getting information, in any case. “He lost quite a bit of blood. The bullet lodged itself in his side, but missed the organs. There was some damage to the tissue and muscle, but we patched that up as much as we could. He’ll probably be sore for a while, but he’ll make a full recovery.”

Rash felt a wave of relief so strong that it almost knocked him off his feet. “Can I see him?”

“He’s in recovery now. He’ll be moved to a room once the anaesthetics have worn off and he’s regained consciousness, but we can’t tell how long that might be,” the doctor answered.

Rash nodded in understanding. “I’ll wait.”

“It might not be before visiting hours are over.”

“I’ll take that chance.”

The doctor smiled kindly. “I’ll ask a nurse to come get you as soon as he’s been moved or to alert you if it doesn’t seem likely he’ll wake up in time.”   

“Thank you, doctor,” Rash said.

“You’re quite welcome,” she smiled at him, accepted his handshake and then left.

Rash sank back down in the chair and buried his face in his hands, taking a shuddering breath. Tears were pressing against his closed eyelids, which was ridiculous, because Stefan was going to be _fine_. Leila said as much as she rubbed his back. Rash nodded, croaked out an ‘I know’ but he still needed a couple of minutes to force down the tidal wave of emotions that threatened to swallow him whole.

“I’m going to kill him myself,” Rash decided, the worry now making way for some measure of anger. He tried not to let his, somewhat unfounded but also mildly justified, anger get the best of him, but it was hard not to when Stefan could have, in fact, died for him, because the idiot had, in fact, taken a bullet that had been clearly meant for Rash.

“You be sure to tell him that,” Leila said, smiling slightly, encouragingly.

“Oh, I will,” Rash promised.

“Before or after you kiss him?” Leila asked.

“What?” Rash spluttered. Unwittingly, an imagine of exactly that sprang to mind. Rash felt the heat rise to his cheeks.

“You know, him being your boyfriend and all,” she reminded him sweetly.

Rash narrowed his eyes at her. “You are not allowed to bring that up to Stefan. He would have a field day. He does not get to have a field day with anything as long as I’m mad at him.”

“So, I get to tell him after you’re doing being mad at him? Which I estimate will last for about five minutes after you’ve seen him awake.”

Rash let that sink in. “No. Nope, you do not get to mention it to him, ever. He will be insufferable. He will use it against me.”

“Could be fun,” Leila said.

“You do not get to spend any more time with him. You are literally banned from spending time with him.”

“Now, now, Rash, I would never try to steal your boyfriend away from you. I’m your sister. I only want what’s best for you.”

Rash made an indignant sound that sounded more like a squawk. “ _Banned_.”

“Rude,” Leila decided, but her eyes were laughing at him.

“I don’t know why I called you,” Rash said, mournfully, questioning a lot of his life choices, including the choices that had led him to letting Stefan in his life and letting Stefan get under his skin.

Leila laughed out loud, then.  She sobered up. “I’m glad he’s okay. Look, I need to get going. I’ve got a shift tonight. Give him my love if you see him.”

“Yeah. Yes, of course. Thanks for coming. And for staying.”

“Of course.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek and then left him to his thoughts.

He settled in for another wait.

\--

Rash was fortunate. Stefan was moved to a room as visiting hours were winding down, but he managed to buy himself half an hour, which was plenty of time to have _words_ about how Stefan was a bloody moron.

The nurse brought him to the room. “Do not tire him,” she warned him, sternly.

Rash nodded. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open. He’d almost gotten used to the smell of hospital, but the smell seemed to have gotten worse in the room. It smelled sterile, if that was even something that could be smelled. Rash didn’t have a better word for it, nor did he particularly like it, but he suffered through it and walked in the room.

Stefan was propped up in the bed, the sheet was covering his abdomen, the bandages that were no doubt there not even visible. He almost looked unharmed, if it weren’t for the slightly pinched and tired look on his face and the fact that he still looked about three shades paler than his normally pale complexion.

“You’re violating hospital rules. Visiting hours are over,” Stefan pointed out by way of greeting.

“I got special privileges.”

“I heard, the nurse told me _my boyfriend_ was here. I’ve got to say, it’s an effective way of making sure I cannot flirt with the hot nurses here,” Stefan said, smiling crookedly.

“How did you even – Ugh. It doesn’t matter. I said _partner_. Conclusions were drawn, I didn’t contradict them for the sake of avoiding a discussion about whether or not I was privy to information about your condition,” Rash said, defensively. He didn’t even know why he was defending himself. Obviously, he hadn’t introduced himself as Stefan’s boyfriend. Obviously, Stefan knew that and was just taking the piss out of him.

Stefan smirked. Then grew serious. “Why do you look like you haven’t slept in days? I’m pretty sure I wasn’t out for days, the nurse told me so.”

Rash pulled up a chair by the bed and sat down. “Because I was worried about, you idiot. Also, we’re not talking about me, I’m not the one in a hospital bed with a hole in my side because I decided to jump in front of a gun.”

“Okay, technically, I didn’t jump in front of the gun. Technically, I pushed you aside and got hit by the bullet,” Stefan corrected him.

Rash glared. “ _Technically_ , you got shot, because you weren’t thinking!” His voice rose slightly at the end of the sentence.

“No, see, that’s not true. I was thinking. I don’t think I’ve ever had a more specific, clear and vivid thought in my life, the thought being that you were going to get shot. Granted, I might not have exactly thought about the consequences, but I did think,” Stefan contradicted him.

“Well, then,... maybe next time, don’t think instead,” Rash argued, for the sake of arguing, knowing full well this was the stupidest thing he’d said so far. It was hard coming up with retorts, when the anger was already draining out of him. Five minutes, not even, Leila had been right at least.

“Sound advice, thank you so much,” Stefan said sarcastically, but with a smile.

Rash had literally no better response than “ugh”. He sat studying Stefan for a couple of seconds, torn between trying to muster up some more anger and a heartfelt ‘thank you’. He decided he could go for anger again later. Right now, Stefan was okay and joking with him and that was all that mattered.

“Thank you,” he said, putting as much feeling in his words as he could. It didn’t quite feel like enough, there weren’t exactly any words that had enough meaning to thank someone for risking his life for you.

Stefan smiled brightly. “You’re quite welcome.” He grew serious again. “I’d do it again.”

Not exactly the words Rash wanted to hear right now. The expression on his face must have given that thought away because Stefan added, “But I’ll try to _think_ of another way first next time.”

“Good... Idiot,” he muttered, a little quieter, but Stefan still caught it and grinned again.

As the smile vanished from his face, Rash could tell how tired Stefan was.

“I should let you rest,” he said, getting up. “Leila sends her love. She was here, but she had go to work.”

“Why, what did I ever do to deserve so much love from such an attractive pair of siblings,” Stefan said, cheekily.

“Just shut up,” Rash muttered, rolling his eyes heavenwards. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Oh, I called Marcus. I’m not sure yet if he’s going to send you flowers or a notice letter.”

Stefan got a pinched expression on his face. “I can imagine neither of our bosses are particularly happy with us.”

“Not particularly, no, but we’ll figure it out. Marcus is just glad you’re okay... Sands just wishes it had been me, I think,” he said ruefully. “Anyways, worries for later. I’ll bring some clothes and some stuff to read for you tomorrow. Get some rest, yeah?”

“Yes, my love, I will. I will dream of your arms around me all night.”

“Impossible,” Rash muttered, deciding to not dignify that with a response because there was no way he was going to win this. Ever. He was doomed for the rest of his life. Stefan’s laughter followed him out of the room.

All in all, it was a nicer sound than no sound at all.

\--

Rash had barely slept.

An attempt to go to bed early had ended in various nightmares, which had led to him wandering around the dark flat. He’d had to stop himself from going into Stefan’s room, because he wasn’t going to be that dramatic, damn it, but after several failed attempts at sleep, he went for a nice, long run in order to physically exhaust himself. It had worked, somewhat, and he’d gotten in a solid three hours of sleep before he gave up at six a.m. and decided he might as well face the day. He headed to his, potentially former, place of employment when it felt like an appropriate time to go in.

“Guv wants to see you in his office,” Sands said by way of greeting as he came within hearing distance. Rash nodded, figuring as much. Sands followed him in and closed the door.

“How is Stefan?” Heywood asked, probably more out of politeness than genuine interest.

“He’ll make a full recovery,” Rash answered. “What, um, what happened with our guy?”

Heywood scrutinized him. “Sands caught him, hiding at his girlfriend’s place.”

“Real criminal mastermind,” Sands muttered in disdain. Rash hid a smile.

“Started confessing to all the armed robberies as soon as the words ‘attempted murder’ were uttered. Said he didn’t mean to pull the trigger. He’ll be happy to know the charges won’t get bumped up to murder.”

Rash nodded, fidgeted nervously.

“I spoke to a Marcus at the SFO. He tells me they were looking into the guy’s big brother. I assume the family connection is the reason you decided to team up with the SFO? Again? Even after I told you to stop doing that, to avoid situations exactly like these, where I get angry phone calls from the SFO about our idiot investigators doing idiot things together?”

“We, um, figured we could help each other out, yes,” Rash answered.

“Hear that? Figured they could help each other,” Sands said with disdain. A look from Heywood shut him up.

“You’re very fortunate that neither of you got your heads blown off. There is a reason that you are paired with DC Sands, that reason being that he’s experienced and you’re not. Running off around London with an equally inexperienced member of law enforcement is going to get you, or him, killed. I don’t want to hear any more of these shenanigans, is that clear?”

“So, you’re not firing me?”

“He should,” Sands felt the need to voice his opinion. Another look silenced him.

“I should, but you’ve got a good head, you’re smart. If you were to actually listen and stop being reckless, you would make a good DC one day. So please, try not to get yourself killed before that time, okay?” Heywood said, almost kindly.

Rash mostly couldn’t believe he was off the hook again.

“What about Stefan?”

“That’s the SFO’s business, not mine,” Heywood replied. He started shuffling around papers on his desk, probably as an indication that this conversation was over.

“Thank you, sir. Um, this is a really bad time to ask this, but can I, um, take the day?” Rash asked.

Sands snorted.

“Take Friday, too.”

“Thank you, sir. Thank you. Yeah, I’ll – Bye.”

Sands followed him out. “You’re real lucky, you know that? I’d’ve kicked you out on your arse.”

“I know.”

“We both know you’re not going to stop working with him, but the Guv is right. If you keep this up, it might be too late for him, or you, next time,” Sands said by way a warning.

Rash didn’t really have anything to say, so he just nodded and left.

\--

Stefan was allowed to go home on Saturday. Rash was there to pick him up, despite Stefan’s protests that he was perfectly capable of making his own way to their flat. The fact that he moved carefully and winced ever so slightly with every step belied that fact.

“Rash, we do not have to take a taxi. I am perfectly capable of walking to the metro station and taking the tube back,” Stefan argued, as he was finishing signing the last of the paper work so he could be discharged.

Rash gave him a look. “You’ve taken about twenty steps, you’ve winced during each and every one of those steps and you’ve got your hand around your middle, you are barely capable of walking to the taxi, let alone the station.”

“I’m breaking up with you, we’re going our separate ways,” Stefan announced.

Rash rolled his eyes. Stefan had cracked boyfriend jokes as often and as many times as he could, mostly in private but on a few memorable occasions in front of nurses and doctors. Rash would have thought he’d get bored of the jokes, but nope. Of course it didn’t help his position any that he had, in fact, spent most of the visiting hours at the hospital with Stefan, which seemed to have reinforced everyone’s ideas that they were romantically involved.

“Fine, we’ll go our separate ways until we meet back at _our_ flat,” Rash stressed. Melanie, one of the younger nurses on the staff, hid a smile behind her hand. Rash was willing to acknowledge that this whole exchange was contributing to the notion that they were a couple.

“You would actually leave me?” Stefan asked, faking a wounded expression. Rash didn’t miss the wink he sent Melanie.

“You just broke up with me,” Rash reminded him.

“I’m delirious with pain, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“Maybe you should stay at the hospital a little longer then. What do you say, Melanie? Can you admit him a little longer, give me some peace of mind?” Rash asked, turning to the nurse.

“You are cruel,” Stefan intervened before Melanie could answer.

“I’m horrible,” Rash agreed. “Can we go get a taxi now and leave Melanie to her work?”

“Fine. But you’re paying for the taxi.”

“Yes, yes, let’s go.”

By the time they made it to their flat and up to their floor, the little walking Stefan had done seemed to have worn him out somewhat. He looked decidedly more pale.

“Are you in pain?” Rash asked, worriedly.

Stefan sank down on the couch. “No, it’s fine.”

“You look fine,” Rash remarked sarcastically.

Stefan shot him a look. “Just a little sore. Doctor said it’s normal. No need to get all mother-hen on me, _dearest_.”

“Fine, whatever you say. Just don’t overdo it and if it hurts too much, let me know.”

“Rash –”

“Stefan, you were shot. There’s nothing normal about this!” He almost shouted the last part. The outburst of anger caught him by surprise. Apparently, as much as it caught Stefan by surprise if the expression on his face was anything to go by. Rash glanced out the windows, ran a hand over his beard and noticed that his hand was shaking. He put his hand in his jeans pocket instead.

“Rash, are you okay? And don’t lie to me, you don’t get to lie to me either,” Stefan said.

“You could have died. You could have died and it would have been my fault.”

“Your fault? How, exactly, is this your fault? Did you pull the trigger?”

“No, but-”

“No buts. We’ve had this talk. I made a decision. All’s well that ends well,” Stefan said, voice booking no room for arguments.

Rash shook his head. “I’m going for a walk.”

“Rash! Come on!”

Stefan’s voice followed him out the door. The rest of Stefan thankfully didn’t, at least. He took the lift back down. His heart was pounding in his chest and a glance in the mirror told him he had that haunted look in his eyes again. This was ridiculous, he realized. Everything was fine. _But it could have gone differently,_ a voice in his head insisted, as he pushed upon the doors and walked out in the London sun.

Truth of the matter was, he hadn’t slept properly since Stefan had gotten shot. The scene had replayed itself a thousand times behind closes eyelids, while he was tossing and turning in his bed but also in his worst nightmares. Sometimes, Stefan had died, bleeding out in front of him, or body riddled with bullet holes were the boy had shot him more than once. He’d wake up, still seeing the empty expression in Stefan’s eyes so vividly that it made him feel sick, one time he’d actually had to rush to the bathroom before he’d emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl. Sometimes, Stefan hadn’t pushed him aside at all and Rash had been hit, which had left him waking up, gasping, feeling a phantom pain in his side. Still, the second scenario felt a lot less bad than the first one.

His mobile rang. Rash half-expected it to be Stefan, but it was Leila’s name flashing on the screen.

“Hi, Leila,” he greeted her with.

 _“Rash, Stefan says you ran out on him looking decidedly not okay,”_ Leila said, in a worried tone.

Rash sighed. “I just wanted to go for a walk, is all.”

 _“Right, how is that guilt trip going? Nice weather for it, I imagine,”_ Leila said lightly.

Rash figured there was no point bullshitting her, particularly because now that he knew Stefan and Leila were reporting to each other, neither of them were going to get off his back. Besides, she was his sister. He’d always been terrible at lying to her.

“I keep seeing him dead. In my dreams. And it could have happened. It could have easily gone that way if the bullet had hit him a little higher, or whatever, and it would have been because his hero complex acted up and he decided to save me. It’s not about guilt. Okay, maybe a little. But _he could have died_. And I would have lost him. I can’t – I can’t handle the thought of losing him,” Rash admitted, getting a little choked up at the end. There was some relief, having said it out loud, but mostly, the crushing grief of what could have been caught up with him again. He tried telling himself there was no point in that grief. Stefan was alive. But his brain, and his heart, refused to let go.

Leila was quiet for a couple of seconds. _“How do you feel about him?”_

“What do you mean?” Rash asked, thrown.

 _“Do you have feelings for him?”_ Leila asked, outright.

Rash spluttered. “What? Where are you getting that from? How did you get that from what I told you?”

_“Just a hunch. I see the way you look at him sometimes.”_

“What? With despair and exasperation?”

 _“_ Fond _despair and exasperation_ ,” Leila corrected.

“We’re mates.”

_“Yet you ran out on him. Rash, I’ve never known you to run. You confront issues, you talk about them. You don’t run. Except maybe when you don’t know what exactly you’re running from.”_

Rash stopped. In the middle of the pavement, mobile to his ear, and frowning. It sounded so sensible, what she was saying, and also completely ridiculous, because there was no scenario in which him having feelings for the guy who was pining for his sister was ever going to end well.

“Huh,” he said, because apparently his objections were more based on the fact _that he shouldn’t be having feelings_ , rather than the fact that _he didn’t have any feelings for Stefan_ to begin with. “No... Nope. Why did you have to bring this up?” Rash demanded, raising his eyes heavenward.

It would explain a lot, of course. Why he put up with Stefan, for example. Or why he found himself staring just a second too long. Or why he hated it to so much when Stefan talked about Leila, or asked him about her, or flirted with her in front of him. Jealousy. Bloody jealousy. Or why he hadn’t actually minded when everyone at the hospital had thought he was Stefan’s boyfriend.

_“Just trying to help.”_

“I don’t see how this is helping!” Rash exclaimed. He started walking again, because the urge to put some distance between himself and Stefan had intensified, for a different reason this time. Or the same bloody reason, whatever. “I _live_ with him. I have to listen to him moan over you. Oh, this is so very bad. Is it too late to move back home?"

Leila laughed quietly. _“I’m going to tell you something. Do with it what you will. The last couple of times Stefan flirted with me was in front of you.”_

“You don’t have to remind me of that! I know,” Rash scrubbed a hand over his face. “Wait, why are you telling me this?”

Leila made an impatient noise. _“What does Stefan enjoy most?”_

“Annoying me,” Rash said, automatically.

_“Exactly!”_

Rash’s frown deepened. She had come to some conclusion that apparently he wasn’t grasping. At all. “I don’t get it.”

Leila sighed. _“Rash, go home. Talk to Stefan. Be honest with him. About_ everything. _Call me later._ ” She ordered. Before Rash could formulate any kind of response or ask any of the thousand questions that he wanted to ask her, like, _why was she being so cryptic? what was she getting at_?, she hung up. Rash spluttered, held the mobile away from his ear and glared at it as if it could transmit his glare directly to Leila. He briefly contemplated taking a picture of his glare and actually sending it to Leila, but that seemed juvenile so he refrained just in time.

He pocketed his mobile. She was right in that he probably, no, definitely, needed to talk to Stefan. Running out, visibly upset, had raised some questions, and some worry and indecision, if Stefan’s first course of action had been to get his sister involved. Reluctantly, he started walking back, ignoring the fact that his pace had slowed considerably.

His little revelation that he had feelings for Stefan hadn’t left as much as a shock as it could have left. Mostly, because if he was honest with himself, he’d known. He’d known that his feelings went beyond friendship. He’d kept coming back to Stefan, after all. Despite their vastly different backgrounds, different personalities, different outlooks on life, Rash had been unable to cut him out off his life, even if, sometimes, it had seemed like the best decision. Stefan had gotten under his skin from day one, and somewhere along the way, that had transformed into something that went beyond friendship. He wouldn’t say he was in love, exactly, that required something more intimate. But he could admit to himself that the warm feeling in his chest whenever they were together went beyond friendship.

Leila had been right about something else: he’d never been one for running away from his feelings. He owed it to Stefan to be honest now. They lived together, after all. If this was going to be a problem, he needed to know now. That didn’t make him balk at the prospect of having this conversation any less. Even if he didn’t usually run from his feelings, talking about them was something else still.

Before entering the flat, he took one last, slow, steadying breath. He released it slowly as he turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. The sounds of the television playing greeted him. He took his time toeing off his shoes and getting out of his jacket. When he couldn’t postpone the inevitable any longer, he headed into the living room.

Upon catching sight of him, Stefan immediately muted the volume on the television, sitting up a little straighter. His forehead was creased in a small frown. He looked unsure as to what to expect. Rash sat down on the other couch, wringing his hands nervously. Stefan waited him out while Rash gathered the courage, wondering how best to approach this. He probably should have thought about what to say on the way over. He kicked himself for not thinking of that sooner.

“I have feelings for you,” is what came out eventually, because there was no point in beating around the bush.

Stefan gaped at him. “What?”

“Romantic feelings,” Rash elaborated.

Stefan burst out laughing.

Rash, almost instinctively, hunched in on himself a little bit, trying to figure out what to do with that kind of reaction. He’d expected questions, not this.

Stefan, noticing his obvious discomfort, stopped laughing immediately. He leaned forward on the couch, elbows on his knees. “Rash, I know that. Okay, I didn’t really know that but I suspected it. It seemed like you weren’t really aware of it, though, so I was waiting for you to catch on.”

“Waiting for me... to catch onto the fact that I have feeling for you?” Rash repeated. Stefan nodded, expectantly. Now he was the one left feeling confused, again. It still felt like he was missing something. This was not the reaction he’d been expecting. Stefan knew, or had suspected, whatever, and yet, “But what about Leila?”

“She’s gorgeous, but flirting with her was only fun to see your reaction to it.”

Rash felt offended and angry on Leila’s behalf. “You’re a bastard!”

Stefan laughed again. “Calm down. She knew I wasn’t serious.”

“How was she supposed to know that?” Rash demanded.

“Because she’s not _blind_ , unlike her idiot brother, who, apparently, needed me getting shot to come to some glaringly obvious conclusions.”

“I’m missing something, aren’t I,” Rash stated, rather than asked, because that much was becoming startlingly obvious. There was only one thing that he could be missing. The puzzle pieces were starting to come together. Stefan was still watching him expectantly, apparently trusting him to figure this one out.

When Rash didn’t come out and say it, Stefan sighed. “Rash, I’ve been calling you my boyfriend for days.”

“You can’t be serious! You were joking!”

“Was I?” Stefan asked, smiling slightly.

Rash spluttered. “How was I supposed to know you weren’t? You’ve never given any kind of indication that you had feelings for me!”

“None that you read correctly, apparently,” Stefan shrugged. “Figured it was easier to wait for you to figure it out. Also, I took a bullet for you and you still didn't figure it out.”

“Technically, I didn’t figure it out. Leila as good as told me. Also, having feelings for me doesn't make you less of an idiot for doing that,” Rash replied, distractedly, still trying to figure out where exactly this conversation had gotten so very far out of his control. He figured it had never been in his control to begin with. “Did everyone know about this except me?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Stefan said, nodding.

Rash nodded. Wait. “ _We moved in together._ We haven’t even gone on dates yet!” Rash exclaimed.

“Granted, we might be doing this backwards, but we’ve been living together for a few weeks, we haven’t killed each other yet, so I think we’re doing pretty good.”

Rash narrowed his eyes at Stefan. “Exactly how long have you been waiting for me to figure this out? Why didn’t you just say anything? Make a move? Ask me out?”

“You didn’t seem ready,” Stefan replied, shrugging. “You’d pull away when touches lingered, avoided looking at me when the stares got a little heated, you didn’t notice, or didn’t want to notice.”

Rash could probably argue this to death, he could say, _but you never flirted with me_ , but it was probably, at least partly, untrue.

“So, where do we go from here?” Rash asked.

“You can start by coming over here and kissing me,” Stefan suggested, smiling cheekily. “I’ve waited long enough.”

Rash wasn’t exactly used to being almost told to kiss someone. Kisses happened spontaneously, so he felt a little awkward, sitting himself down next to Stefan, consciously keeping his eyes locked on Stefan’s. Stefan seemed to feel no such awkwardness. He grinned, eyes crinkling and drew him in with hand half on his cheek and half on his neck. The first brush of lips was tentative, a little strange, but Stefan didn’t let him pull away, kissed him a little harder, deeper, until Rash felt himself relax into the kiss and give in to it.

Rash broke the kiss, rested his forehead against Stefan’s. He closed his eyes, focused on the feeling of Stefan’s hand against his cheek, warm, thumb rubbing up and down a bit, focused on the soft puffs of air against his face. “I have nightmares. Of you dying, of being unable to stop it. I can’t lose you,” he admitted quietly, in the space between them.

Stefan angled his face so that he could press a quick kiss to Rash’s lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Rash could say more, prolong the conversation, but all the anxiety of the past days were finally starting to melt away. Stefan was here, alive, with him. The rest of it no longer mattered. Only one other thing mattered right now. “Are you okay? Aside from the purely physical, I mean.”

Stefan was quiet for a minute as he pondered the question. “I will be. I had uh, someone come by in the hospital to talk about what happened. That helped. For now, I just want to forget it as much as possible.”

“Fair enough. But I’m here if you want to talk, okay?” At Stefan’s nod, Rash continued, “And you better not go anywhere... I can’t afford this place by myself.”

Stefan laughed. “Great way to ruin the moment, you arse.” Stefan settled back against the couch and pulled Rash with him, turned the sound of the tv back on. Rash moved around a bit, until he was settled more comfortably against Stefan’s side. Rash fished his mobile out of his pocket, pulled up Leila’s number.

 _You knew!!_ he texted her.

_I am brilliant. Happy you prats got there... Be safe. ;-)_

~The end


End file.
